This page contains Kemp family stories and profiles of legendary members of the Kemp family. These stories will be compiled and edited further into a book for future publication.
Kemp Family Legends:
Elva Kemp (aka Nan).
My nan was my fathers mother and an inspirational matriarch of the Kemp family. Nan was by hairdresser by trade and a mean golf player. She compiled, wrote and had published a book 'The History of Sussex Inlet' in 1990 with assistance from my mum. This is one of our families proudest achievements and remains one of the most richest historical resources for the region.
I can remember heading around to nan's house for haircuts and to visit as grew up. Nan married Peter Kemp (dads' dad) first before he died in 1984. I was born too late to meet my either of my grandfathers before they passed away.
Nan later married Fred or 'Pop'. I grew up with Fred as my Grandfather before he also died. Nan, or 'Elva' to some, was a valued community member, champion golfer and friendly local hairdresser. I think the fact that I have never been to a hairdresser since Nan died is in a sense my ongoing tribute to my nan. I can remember the discussions we had as my hair was cut about the rest of the family, personal issues and just general news.
My Gran is my mothers mother and another inspirational matriarchal figure in the Kemp family. Pictured here holding me (Taj) as a baby, Gran or Val, worked in various offices and for members of parliament. Gran is the oldest and smartest person i know alive. She walked across The Sydney Harbour Bridge as it was opened a three-year old and has been witness to many changes in Australia over the course of her lifetime. Gran married a few times and even lived overseas in Papua New Guinea for some time. Visiting and staying at grans house at 'Turella' (Rockdale, Sydney) was always exciting for the kids who grew up in the bush. Gran still never ceases to amaze me with her stories of mum's childhood or of travelling somewhere exotic around the world. The story Gran tells where she took off through the eye of a cyclone is a personal favourite i never grow tired of hearing. :)
Kenneth Cockshaw (aka Grandad)
My maternal grandfather, Kenneth Cockshaw was born in Yorkshire, England on
15 January 1924, the second of three children and the only son to Harold and
Dolly. With the outbreak of World War 2, aged 15, he joined the Royal Navy
to do "boy's time" until he was old enough to go to sea. During the war he
was bombed and sunk 5 times, one time he was the only survivor. He arrived
in Australia aboard the HMS Bonaventure towards the end of the war, and
spent two years as part of the occupying forces in Japan from 1945-47.
Suffering what would now be diagnosed as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, he
was honourably discharged on medical grounds in Sydney. He found alcohol
helped him cope with some truly horrific memories - he never shared any of
these with his family, and it was only through her grandfather that my
mother ever learnt of his experiences. A kind and generous man, he worked
most of his post-war life for the Sydney City Council, eventually as an
attendant at the Sydney Town Hall. This meant free entry to the Royal Easter
Show for his family each year, and free seats at any performance at the Town
Hall - even if it sometimes meant sitting in the Electrician's Box. Like
most men of his era and experience he died quite young, barely 60 years of
age - he never returned to England, but despite living most of his life in
Australia, was still a proud Yorkshireman until the day he died.
(Written By Carole Kemp, 2015)
Peter Kemp (aka Grandad)Peter Kemp was Dad's Dad. He was a boat builder by trade and served as a sea-plane mechanic in Papua New Guinea during WW2. A succession of first born sons were named 'Peter Kemp' until my parents decided to change the trend and named me 'Taj Peter Kemp' in 1986. A wooden boat crafted by Peter Kemp's (grandad's) still survives with family members and is one connection that i still have to my grandfather. Another connection i have to my grandfather are his WW2 Medals. These medals were almost lost in the bushfire that claimed our family home, whilst the material parts of the were destroyed and the medals slightly damaged, the medals remained intact and poignant reminder of who my grandfather was.
Kemp Family Stories:
Growing up in the bush
Growing up in a National Park was exciting for children like my siblings and myself. The bush provided the perfect 'environment' to grow up and learn new things. My first word was 'bird' and the rich diversity of native (and introduced) animals living around our home provided plenty of excitement. The resident Red-belly black snake, has lived under the bridge in our front yard for as long as we have lived on the property. As a child i remember being fascinated by the appearance of a snake on the front lawn (and even sneaking in for a closer look) before making sure my younger brother / sister were at a safe distance and getting mum or dad.
Pictured: Me and Dad
Pictured: Mum and Aja
The Old Berrara Road and connecting roads, stretch into the Conjola State Forrest for hundreds of kilometres between Sussex Inlet and Lake Conjola. Getting lost on these roads is quite possible whether travelling on foot or by car, and numerous victims would seek assistance at our family house as we were the last residential property before National Park. There are creeks, fresh water holes, abandoned and running farmsteads and pine tree plantations to be explored throughout the bush adjoining our property.
Pictured:(above) Old Berrara Rd looking into the Conjola State Forrest & Lot number '140' our the front of our property.
Growing up alongside the Australian bush as a child I; learnt many skills, developed knowledge regarding scientific, naturalistic and philosophical concepts, and even witnessed the power of the natural environment first hand (see 'The Bush fire' story). I think these experiences have given me a greater appreciation for the natural environment around us and a greater motivation to live in areas and locations with these naturalistic features.
Pictured: Dad, Aja, Arlo and Taj (me).
The Bushfire.
It was on Christmas day 2001 that we watched a bushfire burn through the Huskisson region from the safe distance of our home in the bush at Sussex Inlet. In the days after the fire had burnt through this region my father and I went for a drive into this area to assess the damage. Whilst the area had been extensively burnt by the fire many rural properties and structures (like the one we lived in/on) seemed to have survived the blaze. Unfortunately, I think this only lured Dad and myself (well myself anyway) into thinking the chances of our houses surviving a bushfire as being more probable or more likely.
Pictured: Kemp family Christmas Day @ Uncle Don's - (8 days before bushfire)
The fire remained West of the Princess Highway until January 2 2002. It was on this morning the strongest Westerly wind felt that summer blew in, pushing the fire-front East-ward towards our place. It became very apparent to my dad, my uncle (living next door) and myself who had stayed at our house, that the bushfire would be arriving there today.
The air had been misty with smoke for days now and this intensified during the course of the day as the fire moved closer. The fire brigade had offered to spray fire-retarding foam on our roof but relying on a fresh tank-water supply prevented this possibility. The fire brigade also came and informed us (and offered to evacuate us) when they were pulling out (East-ward) of our road as it was too dangerous (the risk of getting caught in the fire-front) shortly before the fire reached us that afternoon.
The water-dropping helicopters had been working for days on end by now and could be often heard or seen in the distance. It was when I witnessed them dropping water on the bush in close proximity to our house (to the West) that afternoon, that i understood that this fire was going to reach our house very shortly. Dad, Uncle Don and myself had finalised our plan of attack(s) for when the fire reached our properties that morning.
Pictured: I believe this was the last ever photo taken inside 'The Dome', Christmas eve 2001.
I cannot remember an accurate timeline of events from this point on, (adrenaline has that effect) but this is what I can remember;
Minutes or seconds after we witnessed the helicopters water-bombing near our house my Dad and I stood facing Westward towards; the bush, the fire-front and the smoke-filled air. It was sometime in the afternoon (maybe between 3 - 5 Pm) as the sun was setting, obstructed by the hazy smoke, that the sun and fire-front combined to produce a yellow-orange glow on our Western horizon. This is one sunset I will never forget. From the hazy, bush-framed orange horizon spot, fires seemed to appear from nowhere, and then everywhere, all at once.
Dad was manning a new water-pump on the Western side of our property and I was to run through the house (inside) and keep an eye on the amount of embers and spot fires taking hold within the house and its roofing structure.
After watching the spot fires spread onto our property and beyond helplessly, I turned to head into the house to 'check for embers' and to my shock the fire had not only spread onto our property but was burning several structures on the Eastern side of the property (Cubby house, Shed and Mulched gardens) around the house. Even mums newly mulched gardens were fully ablaze creating quite the hellish scene.
I ran back through the house. I can remember reaching the lounge room skylight area and could see the heat from the fire melting and warping the skylight panel, there were also numerous embers entering through the eves and walls of the house, from the North-Western side. It became apparent to me at this point that the fire would probably burn our house down.
I ran back out towards the back door, I can't remember if I went and updated dad on the increasing amount of embers, I think I may have once, possibly twice. Despite dad's efforts with the hose, the gusting Westerly wind made it almost pointless. I can vividly remember watching dad turning the hose on full-tilt only for the gusting Westerly wind to blow the water in an umbrella shape back over him. This also helped me to realise the helplessness of our situation and the threat our house 'The Dome' was now under.
I can vaguely remember stating to dad that, 'there were a lot of embers coming through the eves' I am not sure if i ran out the back to where he was or if he came in and checked on me in the house to get this grim update.
What i can remember at this point is dad hurrying in 'The Domes' backdoor, closing it behind him, pushing blankets up against the floor gap and saying something to the effect of, 'it's gone, it's time, we have to get out of here now'. From memory I think protested (ignorantly) for us to put up more fire-fighting efforts in or around the house, and fight the bushfire and found it hard to take my father telling me to leave "The Dome' for the very last time.
We took one last look at the house that Dad had built (and the house and i had grown up in) from the inside and exited through the front door. We went through a side gate to next doors property (Uncle Don's place). Mum's garden were fully ablaze either side of the path and I can remember us having to run through this gap between flames to the relative safety of Uncle Don's house and property. Uncle Don's house was partially damaged by spot fires but would survive the bushfire.
I think the hardest part of this whole ordeal was standing with my Dad for next hour or so as we watched 'The Dome' burn to the ground together. For me it was so hard to watch my Dad as he watched one of his greatest achievements and our families home be destroyed by nature. It was a surreal experience, I think it is one of those experiences that you 'don't expect will ever happen to you' until it does.
Uncle Don's house survived (damaged) the fire-front but was showered with falling embers from an ignited tree behind the house for several hours after the front had passed through. After this point my Dad and I tried to drive off our road and into town. We were blocked by fallen power-lines along the road and by the backside of fire front trying to head East through bush 'fire trails'. We returned to Uncle Don's house where we waited until later in the night when we were evacuated by the fire -brigade into the Sussex Township.
Pictured: The destruction left by the fire & the ruins of 'The Dome'
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